Don't Tell Me Truth Hurts
by Teilia
Summary: . In some cultures a hero is defined as one who can overcome all four of the elements: earth and air and water and fire. Any other restrictions weren’t exactly defined. Rated for future chapters.
1. Prologue

**Don't Tell Me Truth Hurts**

**Disclaimer:**I do notown Riddick or Jack.

**A/N**: First Riddick fic. Reviews welcomed and encouraged.I'm quite aware it's short – I apologize, I didn't have much time. Hopefully my next update will be soon, and somewhat longer.

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Prologue

Entitled: To Walk a Fine Line 

_Can a man of 'evil' become a hero? Does one have to willingly become a hero, or can their actions simply initiate a series of events that would qualify them as a hero – knowingly or not. In some cultures a hero is defined as one who can overcome all four of the elements: earth and air and water and fire. Any other restrictions weren't exactly defined._

_Did it matter that he was a convicted murderer? Perhaps that leaves the definition of 'evil' to interpretation._

Darkness. Strange how one word can spark so many and such different emotions. Darkness can hold a fear of the unknown, a prickling on the back of one's neck that something is only just beyond your field of vision. And yet, it can hold a sense of security and comfort. Just think about it next time you close your eyes at night; you'll feel it too. It drowns out the insecurities. For Jack, it also brought back the memories.

It was late. She didn't know when exactly; her perception of time had become blurred over the past few days. Silently, Jack leaned back in the shadows that had become so much of a mixed comfort to her over the past few years. Swallowing hard, she tried to control her heavy breathing from running the streets. It was an unfamiliar place to her, a planet she had merely taken refuge upon. Her refuge had been cut short.

A shuffling of footsteps, someone who had never learned to pick up their feet properly, caught her attention to the right and still she kept her eyes firmly closed. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as the footsteps got steadily closer and louder. Jack could have sworn that if they came any closer they would hear the furious beat of her heart.

The footsteps paused for a moment and Jack held her breath. The low rumble of a male's voice close by covered the sound of a blade being slipped from her pocket.

"I don't see her." The voice said. It was low, almost on the verge of fear.

Another voice answered the statement with an impatient growl, "Of course you don't, you can hardly see anything in this darkness."

And truly you couldn't, so it hardly made a difference that Jack kept her eyes closed until she chose to move. Until she was certain the men who had followed her could feel the cold steel against their throats and until she felt a warm liquid splatter against her hand. It had a metallic taste, blood. Like copper.

True, one could hardly see in that darkness, but Jack didn't need to. It would hide the bodies well.

It was seconds later when Jack stepped easily over the two lifeless men and continued on her way. Her destination: New Mecca. Her reasoning: she had given up looking for Riddick.

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	2. Chapter One

**Thank you to those who have reviewed so far, it really wasn't expected because the first part was so short. I'm so sorry it has taken so long for me to update. I only got a chance to start the story and then was close-lined by things in real life. Here's hoping you are as supportive of the first chapter as you were for the Prologue. Anyway, without further adieu, the actual first Chapter!**

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Chapter One: One last refrain

_Riddick once told me that your brain shuts down in Cryo-sleep - all but the primitive side, the animal side. For the first few years I always went out like a light. _

"Touchy one, ain't she. You'd almost think she doesn't appreciate what we do for her." An oily voice said. It was a voice that belonged to a man who looked much like he sounded; greasy. Barbaric. He was a merc, one that went by the name Geoffrey. And his words of self-praise almost made Jack gag in her seat at the back of a small, short-range civilian transporter. They were on their way to pick up the ship that belonged to Geoffrey.

Originally, Geoffrey's crew consisted of five, including himself. When Jack had chosen to leave New Mecca to look for Riddick, she had got into a lot of trouble very quickly. Her boys name and persona had not been a mask she could hide behind for long. People saw through it. People saw her.

All she wanted was to find Riddick, to become like him. She idolized his strength, physically and emotionally. She wanted that – not to be effected by people looks or words. She wanted to hold the upper hand on the world. She wanted his movement and his skill – but most of all she wanted his eyes.

Oh, how she wanted those eyes. And so it was that Jack went in search for Riddick and in search of an eye shine.

She could remember her first kill so vividly. It had been sloppy, for she had been inexperienced and afraid. After the first one though, it became easier. The thing was, Jack hadn't been barbaric – she didn't start to kill because of the eyes or to be like Riddick. She had been thirteen years old, the night Jack learned she couldn't hide behind her persona of a boy. People did buy it anymore, men didn't buy it anymore. They saw through it to a girl who wanted to get away from her current life, who had something to run from or something she wanted to run to. They saw a girl who had no one to run after her so they tried to take full advantage. For one man, when he got close enough, Jack snapped. The 'vulnerable little girl' twisted her fingers around a blade in the man's belt and slashed his throat. The only reason she had been successful was because it had been sudden and unexpected.

She had been seen though, caught red handed with the knife still closed firmly in her fist. The man she had killed had been part of Geoffrey's crew. Jack was then made an offer: join Geoffrey's crew in place of the man she had killed, work for him for two years with minimal pay – or be taken for murder.

Five years later she was stuck with the same crew, the same harsh treatment and under the same iron fist. Geoffrey had lied to her, threatened her, slaved her. Originally, she had truly considered being taken for murder. Though that perhaps it would be her chance to find a doctor to shine her eyes. A part of her, though, had pulled her in the other direction. Joining mercs, as bad as that sounded, would teach her the trade and the skills that would eventually help her on her own. Besides, Geoffrey had said only for two years, right?

Jack's trust in that had soon gone down the drain.

In the end she really had no choice – if she went back to New Mecca, Geoffrey would find her. It would endanger Imam and his family at Jack's own fault. And for the longest time she did not feel that simply running was an option – everyone has to get his or her skills to survive somewhere. She didn't know enough to get away, didn't know enough to stay away. Until now. Now, she was just biding her time. She needed transportation, they needed a crew member. Soon, she'd need a ship – soon, they would have a ship. For a little while anyway.

Geoffrey's crew now consisted of himself, Fritz who was a large, balding, tank of a man, a rather sly-looking man named Jori who always seemed very blunt, and a dark-haired and rather quiet boy named Nikola. Nikola was nineteen years old and refused to talk about his reasons for joining up with the mercs. He had been part of Geoffrey's crew since before Jack had, but didn't seem as though it was his first choice in lifestyle. Jack always assumed he simply got hooked in a similar situation to her own: not meaning for it to end that way or last that lot yet not truly have much of a choice.

Jack narrowed her eyes, fists tightening until her knuckles were white. Fritz laughed a deep, lazy laugh. Stretching in his seat he yawned without further reply. Nikola turned his dark eyes to meet Jack's, giving her a knowing look that warned her to calm down.

Warning her to calm down meant she'd have to suck it up and take all the bullshit Geoffrey threw at her.

"After all I did for you – keeping you out of prison, teaching you the trade, even giving you a cut and you can't have the decency to thank me once in a while? I could just as easily hand you over to a slam you know, you've certainly done enough to make yourself worthy." Geoffrey continued, taking Jack's silence as an invitation to keep talking, "I doubt the prisoners will be as gentle with you." He pushed the gun he was holding into the gun rack with a click. Turning on his heel he walked by the chair Jack was sitting in, kicking her boot as he went by. "What is this? Got nothing to say for once, Jack?"

"My name isn't Jack," She growled, "It's Kyra." She kept her eyes firmly averted toward her hands. She couldn't see the look on anyone's face, but Geoffrey's voice sounded confused for a moment.

"Huh?" And then he started laughing. Short, almost nervous laughter. It was as if he were waiting for Jack to say she was simply kidding. Jack kept her eyes down.

"My name is Kyra."

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End file.
